


Vivid Dreams and Burnt Toast

by 61feathers



Category: The Maple Effect
Genre: June - Freeform, M/M, Masterbation, Summer Romance, aaron - Freeform, burnt toast, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/61feathers/pseuds/61feathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>June is pent up and Aaron cant cook anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vivid Dreams and Burnt Toast

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO FRIENDS~ <3 Im going to assume most of you have found this because of the link from my webcomic, and if thats the case I hope you enjoy it with all of your heart. Its... really weird posting an original story here, but I figured I guess it can count as fanfiction? (IDK IM THE AUTHOR BUT THERE IS A FANDOM KIND OF FOR THE MAPLE EFFECT?)
> 
> This takes place directly after the end of Chapter 4, and before Chapter 5. (meaning it will NOT be included in the comic) Also, forgive any typos i have, I dont have time to go back and check for errors. 
> 
> Anyways... um yeah dont read if you dont like this kind of yaoi thing okay ? (but honestly, who doesnt like it?)

It’s late afternoon the first time Aaron kisses me, and it’s hardly the kiss I was expecting. It’s rough, fast-paced, and deepening quickly with the taste of his tongue against mine. He smells wonderful because he just got out of the shower, and he feels cool and clean and damp around the neck where his hair is still dripping. My fingers curl there, pulling at him harder and closer and eager. My mouth moved against his in a way that it has never done before. It’s hot, smothering, and my southern regions are suddenly heavy with desire.

Aaron cups my face in his hands, tilts my jaw up just a little and bites at my lower lip, teases it and pulls slightly until I gasp. It’s the first gasp of many, I figure, and somewhere in the back of my mind I hope that he is not going to mind me being vocal. He shouldn’t after all, there aren’t any other humans in this house to hear us, and the neighbors aren’t exactly close by (a mile each direction actually). I think about it as his hands move from my face to my neck, then shoulders, and then sides where he squeezes slightly. It tickles and makes me arch, but fades quickly into the way it feels to have his lap pressing against my own.

I’m not sure exactly when I lose my clothing, but before I even have time to register the fact that I want him to fuck me right then and there, he’s already doing it. Thrusting hard into my backside and making me moan. My toes curl into the sheets even though I think we started in the kitchen. My hair is sticky with sweat and the smell of his shower fades into the smell of sex surrounding us. It’s thick enough to cut with a knife, passionate enough to start an earthquake, and deep enough to rattle my bones from the inside. I try to hold him closer to me, arms looped around his broad shoulders and nails digging right into his skin. He makes a noise sort of like a cough or gasp, and throws his head down into my collar bone. Every inch of him convulses, trembles into me, and he grows tight with strain. For a split second all I can think is “He’s coming. He’s coming inside me” and then suddenly he’s biting my ear—the one with the piercings—and im moaning loud because it tingles and it burns and—and --- 

He says my name.

“June.”

And suddenly everything snaps back into place like a rubberband that breaks when you are preparing to shoot it at someone. My eyes jolt open, and while the smell of sex is gone, a layer of sweat remains through my hair. My chest is tight and my hand is firmly wrapped around the shape of Aaron’s shoulder.

“Ahh!” I pulled back, rolling away from him and the memory of his green bedroom eyes looking down at me while he thrusts. “Goddammit—I—I— 

“Thanks a lot.” He mutters, rubbing the little crevices my nails made into his skin. “Having a nightmare?”

Holy shit. Yeah a nightmare alright. A nightmare about you being a sex god and fucking me senseless. “N—Not exactly.” I whisper, still scrambling out of bed.

“June?” Aaron’s curious eyes follow me, burning holes in my back as I move swiftly towards the bathroom. 

This is wrong. So wrong. Aaron has no business being the center of my fantasies and yet I know there is nothing I can do about it now. I’m hard as a rock and he is getting out of bed and coming towards me. A make a point not to bother by shutting the bathroom door loudly.

“June Bug, are you okay?” He calls, the sound of his knuckles coming lightly. “You looked kind of like you have a fever.”

“Definitely not a fever.” I say as normally as I can, but my voice cracks because in some way I do have a fever. A very, VERY bad fever for him. My face is tomato red when I look in the mirror, and all I can think is that this is not fair at all.

“Morning wood?” His stupid voice comes again, and a shiver rolls up my spine. 

One night. One goddamn night of having him in my bed is all it took for me to start having wild vivid sex dreams, and he knows it. Oblivious as he usually is—the way he asks makes me positive that he knows. All I can do is hope maybe he didn’t see the tent in my boxers a moment ago. I look down at it, grimacing and considering taking another cold shower—the third cold shower I will have had to take since meeting this guy.

“June?”

“Fuck off, Aaron.” I pant, just loud enough for him to hear me, but not loud enough to sound threatening. I can hear him chuckle back.

“It’s okay, June, we’re both guys right? It’s not like it’s never happening to me before.”

“Please go away!” I whine, leaning into the counter. “You’re such a dick”

“I’m being supportive.” He replies instantly, and I can hear the smirk lining his voice. At this point he knows he should leave but he doesn’t, because I’m sure he figures that my vivid dream was indeed about him and he wants to torture me. I moan, but it sounds nothing like the moan from my fantasy.

“Alright, alright.” He says, and his fingers are drumming on the wood of the door again. Habit for him—to make noise whenever possible. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Ugh.” I huff, dropping my head and staring downwards again. Would it be more embarrassing to turn on the shower now, or to just take care of the problem and be done with it? Aaron’s feet disappear from the crack below the door long before I figure it’s safe to even make a decision.

Take care of it. Take care of it. Take care of it. 

I move my hand down slowly, closing my eyes and trying to breathe until I can hook my thumb into my waistband. I swallow hard, pull the material away from me, and gently wrap my hand around the length of my erection. Its overly-sensitive, almost so much so that it’s painful (but the good kind of pain?). I let out a shaky breath.

Honestly this was not the way I planned to start my morning, and the image of Aaron laughing at me from behind the door is competing with the image of him from my dream for dominance in my brain. Both are wonderful and terribly in their own way, but I settle on the way I recall sex with him to smell like, and the way his green eyes closed tight when he came inside of me. My hand moved steady and quick, head thrown over one arm on the counter as I lean forward so that I can hide my face in the mirror from myself. It’s hot. Way too hot in too many ways. 

Even the way I can hear Aaron in the kitchen a room away is hot. I pant, lick my lips, slow down for a moment, speed up again, hope he doesn’t burn the house down trying to make toast, imagine him moving… in and out… and I feel a climax pulling out to me. The first climax I’ve reached since I got to this house almost three weeks ago. And actually I can’t remember the last time I jacked off before I even left for vacation.

Normally—or if I would have given it a seconds worth of thought—I would have come over the toilet to save myself the mess, but the vivid pictures in my head stop all train of rational thought and make me dizzy with relief. Strings of silky white erupt out of me and strike the cabinet before dripping down. More comes, this time a slower, sluggish flow down my hand. It drips all the way to my boxers that I had let fall to the floor only moments ago.

It takes me all of five minutes to compose myself enough to look up at the flushed face in the mirror, and even then the high of masturbation makes that person look fuzzy and a little wobbly. I try my hardest to take long, deep breaths, but I’m also afraid they are loud and Aaron might be able to hear them from the kitchen. This is an old house after all—the walls aren’t that thick.

It takes me less time to clean up the mess I made than it does to bring myself to terms with facing him again. I splash cold water on my face, open the door leading to the bedroom slowly and flinch when it creaks like it always does—it sounds terribly loud, and I hurry to find a pair of pajama pants to throw over my naked self. I don’t even bother with another pair of boxers for the moment—just toss the cum-stained ones into a hamper and flop back down on the bed in defeat. It doesn’t smell like sex, but it smells like Aaron and for a moment it overwhelms me.

I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t feel good to get off. It felt SO good, and I wouldn’t be so worried over it if it weren’t for the fact that I had done so because of a dream. I sigh, turn my head towards the wall where a plug was being used to house a new nightlight. I smile, because it reminds me of the sheepish way Aaron walked up to me last night and held the little device in both his hands and asked if it would be okay.

I had nodded instantly, thinking that him wanting to sleep with me was like a dream come true, and if his nightlight was the only thing he needed then of course I was going to let him bring it. It was great, truly—aside from the fact that it brought on this morning’s new episode.

By the time Aaron finds me again I’ve just about fallen back to sleep (which I wasn’t planning) and he’s got a plate with peanut butter toast on it. “Feel better?” He teases, holding it towards me so I can take a piece.

I flip him off before sitting up and leaning over. I take the less-buttered piece and bite it eagerly.

“No, really.” He insists. “I hope you do feel better. It’s not good to let yourself get all pent up.”

I give him a sly look, chewing and definitely not wondering how many times he’s jacked off since he’s gotten here. He smiles, just a little more genuinely back at me.

“I hope the toasts not burnt by the way.”

“It is.” I nod, but take another bite anyways. “But not nearly as bad as the last time.”

“You should just invest in a normal toaster. Not a space-ship toaster.” He huffs, looking hurt.

“You should invest in cooking lessons.” I snicker, leaning over to give him a shove. “Come on, I’ll show you which setting it should be on.” 

“Okay!” He grins now, and the dream is all but forgotten in my mind. 

For now.

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave me comments here if you want but I think I would prefer them on my actual Comic website~ B3 I will be able to respond to them more easily there (I really don't check this site very often). 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little blurb~~~


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